


don't do dinner, try a bitch instead

by passeridae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Established Relationship, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:22:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22890115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passeridae/pseuds/passeridae
Summary: He doesn’t even bother to wait until Akande’s closed the door before he kicks off his underwear and drapes himself across the desk. It’s a mahogany monstrosity, far larger than it needs to be for the work that Akande actually does at it, and Gabriel suspects it’s just here for the intimidation factor, something which amuses him no end. He can feel Akande’s heat against his thighs as the man comes up behind him — Gabriel didn’t even hear him close the door, he’s quiet as a cat when he wants to be.A hand settles heavy on his hip, brushing against the money that Ashe had slipped into his skirt earlier in the evening. “You are incorrigible, my Gabriel,” Akande informs him.
Relationships: Doomfist: The Successor | Akande Ogundimu/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29
Collections: AkanDay 2020





	don't do dinner, try a bitch instead

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to sci who cursed my dick, I could not rest until this was Done

The lights are dim enough that everything outside the stage is a blur of black, but Gabriel can still feel Akande’s eyes on him like a physical weight. It’s heady, knowing he’s here, knowing he’s watching as Gabriel works. Knowing that he’s wanting him.

He’s announced as Reaper, which isn’t the most original stage name, but he looks the part, can growl and posture at patrons in a way that lets him live up to it. Akande likes it, watching Gabriel playfully snarl at men that get too close, tread that fine line between fear and arousal. Tonight’s song choice is one of his favourites, heavy bass and crooning lyrics, enticing and malevolent.

The men and women at the base of his stage are the ones putting money at his feet, but he’s putting on a show for Akande.

The shoes do wonders for his legs, for the way he stalks on the stage, and the chiffon of his coat slides along his legs like a lover’s caress. He’d made it himself, of course, and the bodice clings to him like a second skin, almost more obscene than if his skin had been bare to begin with.

It comes off half way through the song, part of a full-body undulation that raises him from the floor up on to the pole behind him. Underneath he’s wearing shorts, a compression shirt. Nothing else. He uses the pole to spin, lift himself from the ground, then slowly lets his upper body lean backwards while his thighs keep him seated on the pole. His hair sways, and he winks at an audience member with a snap of his teeth as he tugs at the hem of his shirt. 

Getting his shirt over his head is a slow process, due to how tightly it clings to his skin, but he makes every inch count, slowly descending to the ground so that when he finally whips the thing over his head he’s on his knees facing the audience. The excited yelling can be heard even over the throb of the bass, and there are messy piles of money littering the stage in front of various seats. He lets some of the audience tuck larger bills into his garter, and for one lucky participant, rewards them by revealing that his shorts are, in fact tearaway. 

The black thong underneath leaves little to the imagination. He did, naturally, bedazzle it so that he glimmers in the light. It matches the grey body glitter smeared over his skin. He doesn’t think that Akande will be looking away from his performance, but it always pays to make sure.

———— 

After he’s done with his stage act, he heads backstage to change, tuck away his tips, and relax, before he makes his way onto the floor of the club. He’s not wearing altogether that much more than what he was at the end of his performance. A pleated skirt, so short it fails to completely cover his ass, and a harness that frames his pecs and shoulders. His heels, obviously. He likes to tower over people. He pushes the spill of his hair over to one side, lets it tumble over his shoulder and draw attention to the lines of his collarbones. He’s added a fresh splash of cologne on his wrists — blackberry and bay. Faint enough to be alluring, strong enough to be memorable. If these people are going to go home to their wives or husbands or whoever, may as well make their breakup smell of something interesting.

As soon as he’s back on the floor, Gabriel can feel Akande’s eyes on him again. Good, he stayed. Gabriel scans the room, and spots him in one of the booths near the back corner. His favourite spot, when he deigns to come down to the floor of the club at all. Well, no need to seem too eager to see him, he’ll do a round of the floor first. 

He starts his circuit, slow, languid, walking from his hips. There’s no rush. It’s not a busy night, midweek, but there’s a decent scattering of potential clients about the place. The cowboy is even occupying Sombra, so he doesn’t have to deal with her incessant chatter as he scopes the clients, which is an added bonus. 

The first person to catch his eye is a large man with a streak of silver in his hair who’s watching him with an amused smile. He looks sufficiently like Akande — same muscled build, same size, that Gabriel knows it’ll make the man fume from across the room. A perfect first pick. He gently insinuates himself into the man’s space, asking how he found the show, looking up through his lashes. Letting a hand wander towards his chest. The man is polite enough, but disinterested. He smiles, apologetic. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re very handsome, but there’s someone else I’d rather be seeing.”

Gabriel leans back at that, gives the man some space. He does appreciate a customer who knows what he wants, especially when it means he doesn’t have to chat with them fruitlessly for ages. “Oh, who’s that?” he asks, also intrigued to hear the answer.

The man rubs at the back of his head and huffs a laugh that sounds slightly wry. “Buccaneer, I think his name was? The one with the pirate theme.” Ah, Baptiste. Med student, stripping to pay his way through university. Fantastically useful when he’d turned an ankle in his heels a while ago. Gabriel smiles, winks.

“I’ll go get him for you.”

He turns around and catches Baptiste’s eye, leaning against the bar. Meets him halfway, sees how his eyes flash with recognition when he describes the guy. Mauga, he calls him. A repeat customer then. Cute. They look very appealing together. He keeps walking on and is almost at the bar himself when his eyes catch on a shock of white hair, out of place against the black and red of the interior. 

She’s a woman, which isn’t strange, but the hulking omnic standing behind her is. A bodyguard of some sort? She looks... interesting. Far more so than another boring 30-something salaryman looking to spend his paycheck on five minutes of human interaction.

“You look like you need some company,” he purrs, leaning against her chair. The omnic behind her doesn’t move, but seems to glower nonetheless. It’s not a deterrent. Not for Reaper, at least. The woman looks up at him, then lets her gaze trail down his body, appraising. She seems to like what she sees.

“Something like that, why don’t you give me a dance, sugar.” She pulls a note from her pocket and tucks it into Gabriel’s skirt — it’s enough for a couple of dances, at least. More if she wants it. Gabriel grins, all teeth, and gets to work. 

He lets her set the pace, guides her hands to his hips so she can gently tug him on to her lap. He’s careful not to put too much pressure on her — she’s only small, after all, rolls his hips in time with the music. Runs his hands up the outside of her arms, presses them against the seat back to brace himself. Bonus that it gives the illusion of a private space for just the two of them. He wouldn’t do this for clients he thinks will get handsy, but this woman looks a pretty safe bet. Swaying just a little closer, he lets his thighs press against the sides of hers, then casually asks about what brought her here tonight. She’s not someone he’d expect to see in a club like Talon, not at all, and he’s intrigued. And besides, can’t have her getting bored.

Ashe is mostly focused on the sway of his body over her, so it takes a minute for her to speak, but she responds all the same. “Mm, I just got a… bonus, let’s call it, for a job I ran, and thought I’d reward myself.” The omnic shifts behind her, a nervous gesture from the looks of things. Telling. Probably not the kind of job that involved a desk then.

Gabriel can’t help but preen a little, though. “Well I am a reward,” he confirms. Leans his head forwards, resting it on his own arm, and gives a theatrical little gasp as her hands tighten on his waist.

“You certainly are, sugar.” 

After a song and a bit, Ashe coughs a little, then swallows, making a face. “Ugh, smoke. Alright, that’s enough for now, go have some fun elsewhere.” She waves him off her lap with one hand, and Gabriel obliges, standing up and cracking his back. His thighs are burning a little from the work he’s been putting them through and he just knows he’ll be sore tomorrow. But hey, more fun than going to the gym. Before he has a chance to say goodbye, Ashe adds, “but come back later, you hear. There’s more where that came from.” She pulls a wad of cash from her chest pocket, and Gabriel could salivate at all that money so close to him. She peels a note from the stack and passes it to the omnic, tells him to get her a whisky, neat. 

“Good taste,” he tells her as the omnic hulks away. “I’ll make sure to see you later, princess.”

———— 

Finally, finally, he allows himself to saunter over to where Akande’s sitting. “Enjoy the show tonight?” he asks, sitting himself on the edge of the table. Akande has a drink in front of him, largely untouched, as well as a tablet. He finishes typing an email and sends it before looking up at Gabriel with a raised eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed.

“Should I have been watching? Your crowd seemed to be giving you attention enough.” he says, bland, almost bored in his inflection. His face may be stony but his eyes are profoundly amused. Gabriel’s hackles raise, reflexively, before he catches himself — Akande is doing this purposefully, needling him. Getting under his skin. It’s working. It always works. But he loves the thrill of it, the theatre in it all. How his heart races like he’s back on stage. 

He gathers himself with a huff and tosses his head, letting his hair fall in a line over his shoulder to emphasise his collarbone. Akande’s eyes follow the motion, how could they not, his gaze catching on the faint bruising still clear on the skin. Bruising he put there with his mouth. Gabriel tilts his chin, demands, “why else would you come here, on a night _I’m_ performing, if not to watch.” He punctuates the sentence with a hip swivel that moves him closer to Akande, puts his heels on the chair right next to his thigh. Akande’s lucky he’s not feeling spiteful enough to dirty his pristine pants tonight. He’s done it before. Maybe he’ll get to it later.

Now, Akande’s smile is openly amused as he ripostes, insincere as anything. “For the ambience, obviously. It makes work go by so smoothly. You should try it sometime.” He takes a sip of his drink, something white and cloudy; palm wine, most likely. 

When Akande puts the glass down, Gabriel snags it and takes a gulp. Definitely palm wine, powerfully sweet on his tongue and lingering in his mouth. It almost matches his favourite cocktail for flavour. He chases an escaped drop up his chin with his thumb, licking it from the corner of his mouth. “And what was I doing up on stage tonight, if not working?”

Akande’s grin sharpens — he’s enjoying this enormously, perhaps as much as Gabriel. It’s far more interesting than emailing his accountant, or whoever, that’s for sure. Rather than leaning forwards, he sits back, reclining against the back of the booth, and tuts. “My, you are desperate for it today, aren’t you, my crow. What a shame the club doesn’t allow private dances.” 

Gabriel leans forward, chasing him, close enough to feel Akande’s breath on his cheek. “Surely you can make an exception for the boss, sir.” Gabriel emphasises the last word, knows how much Akande likes being called it. Can see his eyes dilate. Knows he’s won this round, snatched it out from under Akande’s feet. And what a rush that is. 

Akande stands, beckoning for Gabriel to follow. He leaves his tablet on the table — someone will pick it up and bring it to his office later. “You’re going to be incorrigible until dealt with, aren’t you”

Gabriel doesn’t say anything. They both know the answer to that.

———— 

He doesn’t even bother to wait until Akande’s closed the door before he kicks off his underwear and drapes himself across the desk. It’s a mahogany monstrosity, far larger than it needs to be for the work that Akande actually does at it, and Gabriel suspects it’s just here for the intimidation factor, something which amuses him no end. He can feel Akande’s heat against his thighs as the man comes up behind him — Gabriel didn’t even hear him close the door, he’s quiet as a cat when he wants to be. 

A hand settles heavy on his hip, brushing against the money that Ashe had slipped into his skirt earlier in the evening. “You are incorrigible, my Gabriel,” Akande informs him. 

“Have I ever been anything else,” Gabriel asks, arching as the hand slides from his hip down across his ass, flipping up his skirt to reveal the surprise that Gabriel had left for him. It even sparkles, to match his outfit from earlier. The lapdances he’d done had been a torturous tease with it in, but it was worth it for the big reveal. Can’t let himself be too predictable, after all. 

Akande is silent for a moment, drinking in the sight, then breaks out into laughter. It’s a full belly event, filling the room with his amusement. The joviality is still effusive in his voice when he speaks again, “have you been taking peeks at my calendar, little crow, or do you just walk around waiting to be fucked.” Akande’s thumbs are rubbing small circles into the crease between his ass and thighs, and it sends frissions up Gabriel’s spine. “Should I be checking the cameras, making sure that you’re not offering extra services to any man that walks in off the street?”

Akande’s not actually calling him a whore, just implying it, but it’s close enough that a wave of heat runs through Gabriel, prickly and intense, and delicious. Letting him in on that little kink of his was the best decision of his life. “Check the cameras if you like,” he purrs into the top of the desk. “ But make sure to check the one in the staff changing rooms, I left you a gift on that one.”

One hand comes down on his ass with a crack and he rocks forwards with the force, a gasp pushed from his lungs. Fuck that’s good. Another smack, the plug jostles inside him sending sparkles up his spine, a third and he groans. He’s put himself in a position with little leverage, draped over the table as he is, and he’s regretting that choice as Akande methodically spanks him. He can’t push back into the sensation, can’t wriggle away either, can only take it and dig his nails into the wood. Can only whine as the heat crawls through him and pools in his belly.

Finally, after an indeterminate amount of time, Akande decides he’s had enough and lets him breathe. Takes the opportunity, and the rare quiet, to run his hands over Gabriel’s skin, a lovely burgundy and scorchingly hot to the touch. There’s a clear handprint on the top of his left thigh that’s particularly attractive, and he runs his fingertips along the edges of it lightly enough to tickle. Gabriel arches into the caress, lifting his ass higher and pushing into the sensation, trying to get more. Greedy for it. He’s so turned on already, cock pressed against the desk, but it’s not enough. He needs more. He needs Akande inside him.

He’s never been shy about demanding what he wants, and this is no exception. “Stop playing around, Akande,” he demands, turning his head so he can see the man’s face. He looks amused, completely unaffected by their activities other than a light sheen of sweat on his face. Gabriel wants to tear that poise away with his teeth. “I didn’t prep myself and doll myself up just so you could hit me a little.”

Akande doesn’t give him the pleasure of a reaction to that statement, face not even breaking into one of his oh-so-common grins. He just starts undoing his cuffs, then loosening his tie. Turns away. It’s like Gabriel didn’t speak at all — until he eventually deigns to respond to the jab. “No, you didn’t doll yourself up for me at all, my Gabriel. Rather for your many admirers out on the floor.” He coils his tie on the sideboard, places his cufflinks on top. Undoes his top button. “Does it rankle, knowing none of them are enough for you? That you’ll always need me to put you in your place?”

God, he is such an asshole. Never mind he’s right, that none of them are interesting enough to hold his attention for more than a minute. That just makes him more insufferable. Gabriel tosses his head again, flipping his hair out of the way as he rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, put me in my place, Akande, I’ve been waiting for you to do it since I— ah!” While he’d been rolling his eyes, Akande had returned to his place behind him, and had used his distraction to kick his legs wide, throwing him off balance. While Gabriel hisses at him, struggling to get his feet back under him with the height of his heels, Akande presses his advantage, laying one broad palm between his shoulderblades, gently but firmly pressing him down on to the wood of the desk. It holds him in place, and also succeeds at pushing the breath from his lungs. Gabriel hisses, presses back into the weight just to feel it, tries to hook one of Akande’s legs and pull him closer. 

Akande steps to the side, deftly avoiding Gabriel’s questing leg, and uses his other hand to unbutton his pants and step out of them. No need to get them dirty, he knows how petty Gabriel can be when ticked off. If he never has to get black stains out of his pants again it will be too soon. He presses down slightly harder with his palm, feeling Gabriel breathe beneath him. “I think you’ve done quite enough talking for the moment, my crow,” he tells the man. “Let me take care of you.”

With that, he begins to work the plug out of Gabriel — diamond tipped, honestly. Gabriel shudders as it moves inside him, brushing against his prostate once again with a lightness that’s maddening. It was nowhere near this bad when he was dancing earlier, Akande just seems to know the specific angle to tease in order to drive him insane. He’s at the edge of pushing Akande off and going home to fuck himself on a bad dragon when Akande finally, finally pulls the thing out, places it on the desk and, with no further preamble, presses inside. 

Gabriel hisses, bearing down, tense muscles softening as he’s finally, finally fucked. The heat in his belly, already crackling high, becomes something overpowering at the burn and the stretch of Akande’s cock working its way inside him. It feels so good, perfect, scratching at an itch that’d been nagging at the back of his mind all evening. He tries to press back, to take him deeper, but can’t, not with Akande’s hand solid on his spine, and that just turns him on even more. He’s panting, from the sensation, from how his breathing is restricted with Akande’s hand so heavy on his back, head spinning as Akande finally bottoms out inside him. He can hear the man hiss, feel the muscles bunching in his legs. But he doesn’t move, remains still, probably trying to let Gabriel get used to the stretch.

He doesn’t want that, though. “Put your back into it, I don’t have all night,” he manages to hiss out through his lack of air, is rewarded for it when Akande grabs his hair and _yanks,_ pulling his head back far enough that even if he had the air to start with, he couldn’t speak. 

Akande tisks, leaning forwards to place a chaste kiss to the revealed line of Gabriel’s neck. “Impertinent,” he breathes into the skin below Gabriel’s ear, but starts to move regardless. He’s been waiting, too, and his patience is running thin. He’s not slow with his movements, now that he’s begun. He’s consistent, and persistent, and merciless in his thrusts. Every time he seats himself, his hips smack against the inflamed skin of Gabriel’s ass and the thrill of pain that it sends through him only makes the pleasure all the sweeter. Akande does something with his hips that should be illegal, and it scrapes skin and hair against the abused skin even as sparks of syrupy pleasure wend their way up his spine, and he could sob with how good it is. His cock rubs against the desk, and Akande’s cock brushes against his prostate on each stroke, and the hand tight in his hair is glorious.

It doesn’t take much more for him to come, his release dripping down the front of the desk in pale stripes. Akande keeps going, his only concession to Gabriel’s sensitivity is altering the angle of his strokes so that he no longer mercilessly presses against his prostate. Gabriel shudders through his orgasm, clenching tight around Akande in shivering bursts, the sensations drawn out and shivering across all his nerve endings. It feels so good, even as it aches, he wants more.

Akande provides, continuing to fuck him through the oversensitivity and through to arousal again. He lets go of Gabriel’s hair, traces the hand down the arch of his spine and around his hip in order to tease. Light touches along his perineum, gentle pressure against his testicles. Gabriel’s cock’s still too sensitive for direct touch, but he flirts with it, close enough that Gabriel can feel the heat of him against his skin. Soon, he’s no longer oversensitive, but aroused again, cursing Akande for having changed his angle even as the man’s hand drives him once again to the brink of orgasm.

Akande’s panting himself, now, thrusts becoming more erratic. His nails dig into Gabriel’s skin, and he moans through his teeth, and Gabriel can feel his breath hot on his neck as he comes. His renewed arousal is syrupy and vicious in his veins, not fading even as Akande makes a low, pleased noise against his neck and pulls back, hissing with sensitivity. Gabriel turns his head to the side, presses it against the sticky wood so he can see Akande from the corner of his eye. Not so composed now, breathless and blood-flushed and looking well fucked. Gabriel takes a moment to appreciate the view, trying to collect himself. Trying not to just rut against the desk and get himself off. 

He jolts as he feels a pressure at his rim, cool and tapered. He manages to murmur a half formed query, before he realises that the sensation is coming from the plug he was wearing earlier. He hadn’t even noticed Akande picking it up. “No need to make a mess,” Akande murmurs into his ear, leaning over to place a line of kisses from his jaw down to his shoulder, the pressure increasing as the plug’s pushed inside. He’s far more sensitive, now, and he can’t help but moan at the sensation of it settling inside him. Hard and unyielding. Merciless. Delicious. Akande is the worst kind of tease. Breath still fanning across Gabriel’s skin he purrs, “You still have half your shift left. Perhaps after that you can come back here for a _meeting,_ hm?” Oh, he is such an asshole. Gabriel may very well be in love.

Gabriel returns to the floor with the flush of a good fuck in his system, and a rolling looseness to his hips. He makes a killing in tips.


End file.
